


What The Bluebird Sang At You

by Applefall



Series: bluebird patrick au [1]
Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Arguing, Fluff, M/M, bit of angst, moulting, patrick is half bird
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-26
Updated: 2015-03-26
Packaged: 2018-03-19 17:54:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3618936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Applefall/pseuds/Applefall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patrick's half-bird and his moult has just started.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What The Bluebird Sang At You

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the prompt:
> 
> "Imagine Person A of your OTP is part bird, part human and they have feathery wings. Then one day Person A starts molting. There are feathers everywhere. Person B is so done carrying a baggie around behind A’s wings to catch the feathers so they don’t go everywhere. Person A gets really embarrassed after hearing from someone else (Person C if OT3) that B is sick of it. What happens? Do A and B fight about it? Does B apologize and be more supportive? Do they both try all these crazy ideas to try and get the feathers to fall off faster? It’s up to you!"
> 
> And this inspired me to do a new bird patrick series so stay tuned for more bird patrick!

As soon as Patrick wakes up, he knows. He panics and untangles himself from Pete's grip, rubbing at his eyes and heading straight to the bathroom. Turning to the side, he catches sight of his wings and he gasps.

He's moulting. His wings, a beautiful blue color with darker splotches, have missing feathers in some spots and as he runs his hand over the empty spots, he can feel sharp pin feathers in their place. He hates this time of year so much, hates that his feathers fall out and make him look rumpled. He's already not that attractive, the rumpled wings certainly won't do anything to help. 

Patrick nearly wails as he lifts up his right wing and begins to inspect it, craning his head and watching as two feathers fall. It's only just begun, so very few feathers have fallen out. But from past experience, he knows there will be more over the course of the next few months. It's an extremely slow process and he can already envision the mess he'll make.

He folds his wings back and heads back out, pacing the bedroom until Pete wakes up. Pete seems confused when he wakes up, fingers reaching across the mattress to search for Patrick. When he grasps a feather, his eyes shoot open and he sits up, holding it close. 

"Patrick?" Pete asks sleepily, blinking his eyes rapidly. "Wha-?" He glances at the clock, looking even more confused. It's rare for Patrick to be up before noon, let alone eight A.M.

Patrick averts his eyes and looks down, whining when he sees two more feathers have fallen out. Pete shoots out of the bed and stumbles, but recovers and heads towards Patrick. He drops the feather and places hands on his hips, fear in his eyes. "What's wrong, 'Trick?"

Patrick closes his eyes and takes a deep, shuddery breath and spreads his wings. They span a good eight feet, wing to wing, so he has to be careful not to knock anything over. Pete blinks in confusion again before sporting the few spots where feathers have fallen. Pete reaches out and runs his hand over the small pin feathers and Patrick draws away, panicky. He can feel the blood thrumming through the pin feathers and he knows that if it were to be hurt, he'd bleed. 

"I'm moulting." Patrick says, looking down. "My feathers will fall out and then others will replace them." He explains, catching the confusion on Pete's face. 

"How long will it last?" Pete finally asks, comprehending. That, Patrick actually doesn't know. His last moult lasted three months, the one before lasted two. This is all new to Pete though, so he tries to think of what to say. 

"Two months? Three? I don't know." He sighs. Pete takes his hands in his and kisses his knuckles before leaning forward and kissing him gently. It's at this moment that Patrick's heart swells. When he was younger he never thought he'd find someone who would accept him for who he was.

Pete breaks away from him and kisses his cheek, not letting go of his hands. "Hey, it's alright. We'll just clean up your feathers, okay?" Patrick nods, feeling something not unlike loss in his chest. He assures himself it's natural, he's losing a part of him, even though they will grow back. His boyfriend bends over and picks up the two feathers from the ground and wanders out of the room. Patrick follows and they wind up in their small kitchen. Pete has a baggie and he puts the feathers in them. 

"We'll just put them all in here." Pete explains and places the baggie on the counter. Patrick steps forward and hugs him, burying his face in his neck. Pete runs his hand down his right wing gently and Patrick shudders. His wings are sensitive and Patrick loves when he lays down, head in Pete's lap and he just strokes his wings. He also loves when Pete pins him to the bed and runs his hands across his wings as he thrusts into him. Either is just fine with Patrick. He knows Pete loves his wings as well and he helps him clean them when he can't reach certain spots.

Pete kisses his forehead and cups his face, kissing him softly. "I love you." Patrick murmurs and draws back, spreading his wings and flexing them. After a night of sleep, it feels good to stretch them. He has to keep the tucked close as he sleeps, for fear of hitting Pete in the face with them. It's never been an issue because Patrick sleeps with his head on Pete's chest and body turned towards his, but he still worries. Pete always assures him it's fine.

"I love you more." Pete beams, voice dripping with affection. 

-x-

One and a half months later, they're finding wings everywhere. Patrick feels ashamed, because the past week he's been losing more feathers than ever. Pete carries a garbage bag behind him now, catching the wings before they hit the ground. If he doesn't, they won't see the ones falling until they're everywhere.

Patrick can hear Pete's sighs and can hear his tiny, impatient noises when a feather falls. He has a sinking feeling in his gut that Pete is getting tired of it, tired of him. One day Patrick goes to visit Joe, making sure to tuck his wings into his hoodie. While Pete and his friends may be accepting of his wings, not everyone is. It's hard to tuck them away and it gives him an itchy feeling, but Joe doesn't live far. It's better than someone on the street gawking or someone calling a lab.

Joe lets him in with a smile and a sympathetic look. "I heard the wings were moulting, dude. Sounds like it's driving Pete crazy." Joe chuckles lightly, probably not aware that his words sting Patrick. He feels sick and his world teeters as he nods. He knows Joe means well and Joe is his best friend, other than Pete. It's not like he meant to hurt him.

"Yeah. It's not like I want them to fall but," Patrick tries to swallow the lump in his throat, hearing the click. "I can't help it." Joe nods understandingly and they talk for a while until Patrick decides he wants to get back and cook dinner. Joe nods and hugs him, giving him a little squeeze.

"See you later, dude!" Joe calls from his front door, shutting it when Patrick's on the sidewalk. The whole walk home he feels dangerously close to throwing up. Pete is sick of him.

Back at home, Pete hugs him and grabs the garbage bag, though he doesn't look very happy about it. Patrick snaps his wings away from the bag and ignores Pete, heading to their bathroom to change. Pete follows him and Patrick flicks his wings back, deliberately hitting him in the chest with them. He doesn't do it hard, but Pete still draws away and gives him a confused look. 

Patrick changes and takes a deep breath, throwing away the feathers on the floor. He goes back out and climbs into bed. Pete's waiting for him there, shirtless and looking a little confused. Patrick doesn't look at him and curls onto his side away from Pete. He can hear Pete swallowing and he ignores it, instead folding his wings over himself. 

Eventually he falls asleep, but it's hard without the warmth and comfort of Pete.  
-x-

The next morning is just as chilly. He ignores Pete and makes breakfast,. Every time Pete tries to follow him with a garbage bag he flicks a gust of air at him. It's the longest they've ever fought. Pete usually apologized after ten or twenty minutes, kissing him deeply in apology. Patrick suspects that he doesn't know what to do. Pete stops trying and instead slumps onto the couch, looking upset. When Patrick sits on the opposite end, he snaps.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Pete asks in a harsh tone. Patrick rolls his eyes and tucks his legs up, putting his chin on them. He doesn't answer Pete. This only seems to anger Pete because he stands and balls his fists. "Well? You've been acting like a first class bitch since yesterday evening."

Patrick frowns at him and turns into his wing, preening. He inspects the growing pin feathers and the new, glossy feathers until he feels Pete forcing his chin up. 

"What the fuck, Patrick!" Pete growls angrily, though Patrick can see the hurt in his eyes. It only makes him upset.

"I know you're sick of me! I should have known you would get tired of me." Patrick tells him in a choked voice, sniffing. His heart is cracking under all the uncertainty. "I'm just a freak and this is why I haven't had any past relationships." His voice wobbles and his wings spread on instinct. He tenses and he knows that's he's taking a stance that clearly says he's getting ready to flee at any given moment. It's the bird in him and Patrick has mixed feelings about it. 

"Oh my god, I can't believe you think that." Pete hisses, moving back and throwing his hands up. "You're so blind!" He steps forward and Patrick's wings beat, making him step back again. 

The younger boy sniffles and glares at Pete. "What else am I supposed to think? Joe tells me my moulting is driving you crazy and you sigh every time I stand up!" He shouts back, voice wavering.

"That doesn't mean I'm fed up with you! God, Patrick, I fucking love you! I'm not just going to up and leave you because you're moulting!" Pete yells in exasperation. "If you think I'd stop loving you because of this then maybe you're not as invested in this relationship as I am!" Pete looks near hysterical as he shouts.

Patrick flinches and tells him, "Fuck you! You're the first person I've ever trusted and loved! How can you say that?" He's aware his voice is cracking, but he can't care less. He wears his heart on his sleeve for Pete. Pete's the only person whose ever touched his wings that wasn't family, Pete was just first kiss, the one to take his virginity. He trusts Pete with everything and he can't believe that his boyfriend, his love, is saying that.

"Whatever, Patrick." Pete says, a certain hilarity to his voice. He turns and nearly sprints to the door, opening it and heading out, slamming it behind him. Patrick feels sick and he stands on wobbly legs, barely making it to the bathroom before he leans over the toilet and throws up.

After he washes his mouth out he begins to process it. Pete might never come back. He doesn't cry as he walks on shaky legs to his bed, doesn't cry when he burrows himself in the bed, wrapping his wings around him. 

He cries when he realizes he's alone and cold. Sobs wrack his body and he makes shuddery breathes and he can't breath without Pete near him. His sobbing puts him to sleep.

-x-

He's shook awake by a warm hand, large and familiar on his shoulder. Patrick unfurls his wings and looks up to see Pete looking down at him with guilt on his face. "You look like shit." Pete whispers, nothing but affection and guilt in his eyes. "I'm so sorry." Pete whispers again, leaning down and kissing him gently. Patrick whimpers and curls his arms around his neck, bringing him closer.

"I should have been more supportive." Pete says when they break away. "I could never get tired of you, I love you so much. I just thought the moulting would be faster." Patrick nuzzles his neck with his nose and sighs, long and shuddery.

"I'm sorry too. I should have talked to you instead of ignoring you." Patrick apologizes, feeling his own guilt rise. Pete presses a kiss to his forehead and sits on the bed. Patrick crawls into his lap and Pete places firm hands on his hips. 

Pete kisses him again, slowly, gently, until Patrick can't breathe. "Instead of fighting, let's talk from now on, okay?" He says. Patrick nods in agreement. "I'll always be there for you. And you're not a freak. You're just Patrick, my Patrick." Pete murmurs against his lips. 

For a while they just sit there, cocooned in each other and murmuring loving things and apologies. When Patrick stretches his wings, a feather falls out.

They look at each other and laugh.

**Author's Note:**

> Send me prompts or request fics at centurese.tumblr.com!
> 
> Comments on what you thought are appreciated!


End file.
